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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275960">Atlas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja'>electricblueninja</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love is a verb [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Destiel - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), impending smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:08:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is more than willing to carry the weight of Dean's world on his shoulder. </p><p>Better yet: sometimes Dean himself rests there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love is a verb [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Atlas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean sleeps on my shoulder when we watch films.</p><p> </p><p>I used to find it perplexing, the way he'd insist on watching something with me, and then unfailingly fall asleep while it was on. But I came to understand that the background noise of hokey voices and galloping horses and that ridiculous, unrealistic whistling sound which heralds a high-noon shoot-out is something that he finds genuinely soothing. I cannot say that I understand it. But if it helps him to rest, I will not complain.</p><p> </p><p>I also began to understand that when Dean suggested 'watching a movie', it wasn't actually aboutthe films. <em>I</em> would watch them, of course. They gave me little windows into Dean's mind. Glimpses into the cultural traditions that have shaped aspects of who he is. The stories through which he developed his values, and his beliefs about right and wrong. The models of masculinity whose shallow performances have dictated what he can say, and what he can't say, and how he should express what he feels. For me, every 'my favourite movie' Dean shows me is highly educational, no matter how crudely it was crafted. </p><p> </p><p>But for Dean, it seems like 'I can't <em>believe</em> you haven't seen that, Cas. We are going to watch it. We are going to watch it <em>tonight</em>' may have always been a euphemism. The soundtrack of yeehaws or gunfire in the background was protection against his inherited fear that it is wrong to spend time alone with another man. With a movie on, being alone together was forgivable, and he could pretend to both of us that his gradual slump from the back of the couch onto my shoulder was insignificant. Harmless. He was just resting. Just the pure, innocent, coincidental result of exhaustion. I was just his pillow substitute.</p><p> </p><p>I accepted the opportunities to spend time with him. In fact, I preferred those movie nights even to riding shotgun in the Impala, because in the car, Dean concentrates on driving. </p><p> </p><p>In the car, Dean does not use my shoulder as a pillow. In the car, he is still on guard; defences up as he performs his own rendition of the gruff self-suppression of his heroes.</p><p> </p><p>Dean finds his peace in hollering cowboys, angry bald men who have improbably accurate aim with firearms, and hiding in sleep.</p><p> </p><p>I find mine in the weight of his head on my shoulder, and the sound of his gentle snoring. Sometimes, when the film is over and I turn off the screen, I spend a while looking at his reflection, watching the lines of anger and care fall away from his face. He is frequently confused when he wakes, but I learned that for him there is a five-minute buffering period in that process, so I have almost always managed to take my leave in time for him to not even remember I was there.</p><p> </p><p>Often, during these movie nights, he would fall asleep partway through a beer or a bowl of popcorn, and my challenge would be to extricate whatever he was holding from his grip before he fell so fast asleep that he spilled it and jolted awake, ready to fight the closest living thing--which was, invariably, me.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, the atmosphere is different. </p><p> </p><p>It is the first time since we have been...intimate...that he has invited me to watch a movie. And we have been intimate quite a few times now. Thirty-seven, to be exact. Each time as rewarding as the first. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, it is more one-sided than others. Sometimes, he will not allow me to pleasure him, and wants only to give; other times, he <em>wants,</em> with urgency and desperation, and I encourage him to be selfish. Sometimes he insists, almost angrily, on reciprocity.</p><p> </p><p>He seems to be slowly adjusting to the idea that I love him. That I am <em>in love</em> with him. </p><p> </p><p>He was afraid of how Sam and Jack would react, as the physicality and the new intensity of our bond became more obvious. But Sam already knew about what was going on between us. And Jack...well, Jack is very observant. The morning after the fifth or sixth time Dean and I had had relations, entirely his own accord, Jack sat us down in the library to state unequivocally that he thought we were sleeping together, that he approved of our union, and that he was glad that Dean was comfortable enough not to be embarrassed about him overhearing things.</p><p> </p><p>This made Dean profoundly uncomfortable. He proceeded to go into hiding for several hours, refusing to talk to any of us, until eventually Sam was able to coax him back out and assuage his embarrassment by taking him on an interstate hunting trip.</p><p> </p><p>While they were gone, Jack and I had a conversation about aspects of Dean's personality, and why some topics (i.e. Dean and my relationship) and particular words (i.e. love) would be best avoided for the time being. Jack responded with great maturity, given that he is so young. We both recognised the probability that mistakes would be made, but agreed that we would deal with any situations if and when they arose.</p><p> </p><p>Jack also suggested wiping Dean's memory, but I managed to dissuade him. What's done is done. I am a little disappointed about the prospect of Dean holding back on his enthusiasm, but I feel that more importantly it is a lesson for Jack on improving his social graces. Not only in the sense that he needs to learn what to say and when to say it, but also in the sense that family do not wipe each other's minds. Of course, I do not mention my disappointment <em>to</em> Jack: only the lesson to be learned, including admitting that 'reading the room' is still the thing I find most difficult about interacting with humans.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'm sorry, anyway," he'd said, sincerely. "I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable. I'm glad, Cas. You both seem so much <em>happier</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Things have calmed down since then. Dean <em>has</em> been quieter while the other two are at home, which is mildly disappointing. But it is for the best, I suppose.</p><p> </p><p>More often than not, we share Dean's room now. And more often than not, although I do not sleep, I lie with him while he does. He says he sleeps better that way.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, the others are out. It is just Dean and I, and whatever this preposterous movie is called--I'm not sure. I haven't been paying attention. I am preoccupied by the way that Dean's hair feels against my cheek, and conscious of the fact that I must hold my position carefully so that his head does not fall forward.</p><p> </p><p>A small moan passes through his lips, but it is just a sound, lacking independent meaning. I shush him gently, and shift my weight so that his head can rest more securely on my shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers twitch in his sleep, fingernails scraping lightly against the fabric of my trousers.</p><p> </p><p>He mumbles something incomprehensible again, and turns towards me, nuzzling close against my neck. At the same time, I feel his hand slide over my leg and onto my inner thigh, his fingers tightening restlessly.</p><p> </p><p>I fish his hand out from between my legs. He is asleep, and I do not want to suffer the discomfort of an erection for the entire night. </p><p> </p><p>"Shh, Dean. Go back to sleep," I say, as I place his hand gently back on his own lap, but he is stirring now. He makes another incoherent grumbly sound, but it definitely is not a sound of agreement. With a muffled yawn, he's looking up at me, questioningly, his gaze slightly unfocused. His vulnerability in this moment makes my heart ache.</p><p> </p><p>I try again. "Dean...if you're tired, you should rest."</p><p> </p><p>He silences me with a bleary kiss to the side of my mouth as he hoists himself clumsily onto my lap. "Shut up, Cas," he says, and then, when I begin to object, "No--<em>Shhhh</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I feel like a tree accosted by a giant koala. He wraps his arms around my neck, leaning in to plant slow, lazy kisses on my lips. He is like this more often, lately, whilst waking up: relaxed, and at ease. It is a playful, gentle side to him that I do not think he has had many opportunities to express, but I feel that perhaps it is closer to his true nature than the macho projection he puts out into the world, and I am grateful that he trusts me enough to let me see it.</p><p> </p><p>I sneak words out in between his kisses. "Dean--I'm flattered--but aren't you--exhausted--after the last hunt?"</p>
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